


Eames is Not a Fan of Arthur’s Guilty Conscious

by grizzly_bear_bane



Series: Hotels and Flats [2]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Arthur becomes a sex kitten, Barebacking, Bathroom Sex, Bottom Arthur, Come as Lube, Comeplay, Domestic, Eames destroys Arthur innocence for real, Eames develops a kink for sex-while-eating, Eames is not a fan of Dom Cobb, Eames is proud of Arthur, Fingerfucking, First Time, Jealousy, Kitchen Sex, M/M, Much to Cobbs dismay, Rimming, Top Eames
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-27
Updated: 2013-04-27
Packaged: 2017-12-09 11:44:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/773822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grizzly_bear_bane/pseuds/grizzly_bear_bane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eames kidnaps Arthur and takes glee in being able to fuck him into a proper sex fiend and knows that Cobb is disturbed by his corrupting Arthur's innocence--and also pissed that Arthur bailed on him for Eames.</p><p>Little does the forger know, he's madly in love, and Arthur's not far behind.</p><p>A story in which Arthur wants to clean Eames’ apartment, but Eames wants to continue sexually corrupting Arthur instead. Cobb and Mal invite them to dinner. Eames fucks Arthur to death in the posh bathroom during dessert.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eames is Not a Fan of Arthur’s Guilty Conscious

**Author's Note:**

> Definitely enjoyed writing this sequel.
> 
> Comments, critiques, and suggestions always welcomed.
> 
> Enjoy!

++++

 _If you want to pick this up in a month, meet me in L.A. in five weeks. You’ll know where to find me._ — _AP_

Eames was there in three.

There were several things that he expected when the cab turned the corner into Arthur’s neighborhood.

Suburban. Definitely suburban. Sunny, quaint bungalows with flowery gardens and kids playing in the yards, straight out of the 50s—A perfect place for a killer specialized in dream theft to settle in on his downtime.

Eames admired the neatly cut, rich green grass and fresh flowers on his way up to the wide porch. He turned his key in the lock of a freshly painted blue door. The forger couldn’t help but chuckle, and ignore the plump woman who eyed him suspiciously while walking her tiny dog.

Of course Arthur would live here.

The floor was hardwood, the furniture light. A pitcher of tea cooled in the open kitchen, but Arthur wasn’t there.

It was the perfect opportunity to snoop. And did he ever hit the jackpot when he made a straight line for the bedroom and pulled open the first drawer of the bedside table.

“Well looky here,” he grinned. He was proud, to say the least. His little virgin minx had been practicing with more than a few toys.

A glass door near the back of the house slid open. Arthur hummed cheerfully to himself as he washed the dirt off of his hands and pulled out a glass and sugar. He stared fondly out of the kitchen window at how well his garden was shaping up. Now if he could only just plant another dogwood before—

Eames cleared his throat and ducked when Arthur sent a knife flying his way.

“EAMES!” He didn’t sound too happy to see him.

“Doll face,” the forger smiled, making a mental check of his underwear in case he’d pissed himself while his life flashed before his eyes.

Arthur’s glass of tea was in a million pieces on the floor. The pointman looked as startled as Eames felt. “Eames?”

“In the flesh. Am I still in danger, or…?”

Arthur’s hand shot to his pocket for his totem. The pocket, Eames now noticed, that was attached to the most sinfully short cutoffs a man could wear. He could hardly believe his eyes: Stick in the mud Arthur with his scowls and suits was in tiny cut-offs and a tanktop that made him look all of fifteen. _And_ he was barefoot. The Pleasantville neighborhood, the Leave It to Beaver house, and the boring nosy neighbors, Eames expected. This, he did not.

But seeing Arthur’s legs again and their brand new tan helped him remember why he’d rushed to LA in the first place. He sauntered over, avoiding the glass and tea as best he could, his arms outstretched, though if Arthur saw him, he had no clue. The man was still ghost white and clutching a second knife in his hand.

At last he blinked. “Jesus fuck, Eames! I could have… Don’t do that!—Why are you here? How—”

Eames held up the key. Arthur blushed, understanding. He swallowed. “You’re here. Early.”

“Of course. I only got a taste of you in that dream. I couldn’t wait for the real thing.”

Arthur eyes were wide when he shivered under Eames’ large hands on his hips. He let the forger pick him up and manhandle him over to the wall with the kitten calendar and to-do lists, away from the mess on the floor.

“You like cats, Arthur,” Eames teased.

Arthur swallowed again. “Technically, yes. Technically the adjunct professor Arthur Thompson really, really likes cats. And gardening.”

“But you’re not the adjunct professor Arthur Thompson.” He sucked a deep bruise right behind his ear. “Makes sense. Now, are you ready for a spectacular rutting session, darling? We can take it slow and easy, or we can just keep fucking until you start winning porn awards, whichever works.”

His ears were pink. “Can’t that much sex potentially put me in the hospital?”

Eames paused waiting for a punch line that never came. Maybe Arthur really was a robot. “Interesting. Shall we head to the bedroom, lover?”

“Well, actually…” Arthur scratched the back of his neck, looking sheepish.

Eames knew that look. He frowned. “Please tell me that whatever it is it has nothing to do with one Dominic Cobb. Because if you do…”

“He called this morning. He’ll be here in an hour.”

That cockblocking bastard. Eames hid his annoyance well. “Can you be packed and out the door in half that time or less?” He followed Arthur’s glance to the travel bag near the kitchen counter. “Perfect, you’re ready to leave now. Let’s get to it then.”

Arthur could only let his mouth hang open when Eames hoisted him over a shoulder and whistled his way to the bedroom.

+

Arthur eyed Eames’ messy flat in Rio with something akin to mistrust and unpleasant curiosity. Every surface seemed littered with bottles, newspapers, dust, and ashtrays—and Arthur wasn’t entirely sure what substance was rolled up in the half-smoked cigarette paper.

His hands itched to scrub the place clean. “Was I just kidnapped?”

“No,” the forger answered matter-of-factly. “You were coerced into taking a holiday to a previously undisclosed location. And no, if Cobb asks, you have no idea where you are or who you’re with, but something very very important came up and can he kindly piss off.”

Arthur frowned, guilt and what Eames classified as Cobb-Separation-Anxiety were already setting into his shoulders.

He would have to remedy the situation quickly. He pulled Arthur in close. “Aren’t you going to unpack? In a few hours I suppose we can catch a break and shower, eat. What say you?” He smiled his most charming smile.

Arthur was lost in that gaze for a moment, still glowing from his proper devirgining. Coming back down to earth, he frowned deeper. “Not sure unpacking will help. I was going with the Cobb’s to Helsinki.”

“Hm. We’ll double knot some of my running trousers then, until we get you something proper. Though not _too_ proper so you won’t be so bloodthirsty when I rip them off of you, popping a few buttons here and there.”

“Like you did earlier.” Arthur’s skin warmed just thinking about it. The buttons on those jeans were very sturdy. Eames was very strong.

“Those _were_ very nice shorts you made, though forgive me if I’m only ever interested in what’s underneath. One risk of being with me is that your clothes might suffer.”

Arthur bit his lip when Eames’ grazed his neck, making another bruise in the long line of his earlier bites. “Eames?”

“Hm?” He started to unbutton Arthur’s shirt.

“This place is an absolute wreck.”

“It won’t be the most wrecked thing here when I’m done with you. And you know your Eames always keeps his word,” he breathed against his shoulder slipping Arthur shirt to the floor. Arthur’s gasp was like a siren song when the forger’s hands opened his pants. “You never had a chance to tell me before what your favorite positions were, or if you liked where I touched you, if there was any place that I missed.” He backed Arthur up against the cluttered kitchen table, admiring the way the pointman’s remaining clothes slipped away to the floor as if he was unwrapping a gift.

Arthur moaned, blushing furiously. “Your mouth.”

Eames’ hand snaked between Arthur’s legs, making them unsteady when he toyed his lover’s hole with his thumb. Arthur was still wet from their earlier play. “Down there?” He kissed a trail down to his thigh.

Arthur nodded in quick jerks, getting worked up when Eames’ thumb pushed inside the tiniest, teasing bit. “It was…different.”

“But…?” Eames kissed his swelling cock.

“It was good.” He gripped the table behind him.

“It was only a tease, to be fair.” They had been in a rush, after all. Eames smiled when surprise and curiosity flitted across Arthur’s face. “Yes,” he continued softly, “You see, a proper rimming takes time to coax the body open. Sometimes it can be even better than fucking if you’re in the right mood for it. How I kiss your lips?” He lifted Arthur’s leg. “I can kiss you here all the same.”

Arthur’s mouth feel open in a loud moan, electricity shot up his spine, briefly paralyzing, but Eames turned him around, spreading him out over the table. His kiss was agonizingly slow and deep. His thumb returned, making Arthur’s legs weak but Eames placed a hand firmly on his back to keep him planted. He was proud of his pliant boy. He could get used to this side of Arthur. He was lovely.

Eames could do this all week. In fact, his mind supplied, he just might.

“Eames,” Arthur could turn enough to see when the forger withdrew his tongue and opened his pants. He spit on his cock, getting it slick. Arthur’s body twitched with want. He rose up on tiptoes to give Eames a better angle.

Eames growl low at the sight. He was very, very proud. “Careful, darling. You keep spoiling your Eames like this. I don’t want to break you, not yet. This is going to be a little rougher than before, but I’ll go easy on you, yeah? Stop me if you need to.” He desperately hoped it wasn’t too soon to do this again. Every second that he wasn’t inside Arthur drove him insane. His cock leaked at Arthur’s hole and when he reached around, Arthur’s cock was equally dripping. He pushed in, feeling Arthur melt around him.

This wouldn’t be long. Eames knew for a fact that he would never last in a position where he could watch himself taking Arthur. And those little back dimples, the perfect size for his thumbs to rest when he pulled Arthur’s hips back to meet each slow thrust in.

He couldn’t speak, couldn’t form words with Arthur moaning his little heart out. He pulled his shirt off over his head and chucked it into a corner before gripping Arthur’s arms, leaving more bruises when he moved faster. His release blindsided him when Arthur broke free of his hands and reached back to spread his ass so that Eames could take him deeper. “Arthur…you…”

Eames knew he was trapped. he had created a monster, a quick study, firehouse of lust monster who now officially had Eames hooked for life. He sank back to his knees almost reverently, Arthur’s cock in hand, and tongued him with abandoned, tasting himself everywhere until Arthur came, nearly sobbing.

+

Arthur rolled out of bed the next day feeling sore and content with the reasons why. The curtains over the floor to ceiling wall of windows were still open, making him frown. It was noon. He hadn’t slept until noon since…well, he never slept until noon. And it seemed like the only reason he was even awake now was because Eames wasn’t in bed with him anymore.

He stretched out the kinks in his neck and grabbed one of Eames’ t-shirts. It fit him like a small poncho, though he opted not to comment on this aloud. Arthur was ‘tiny-boned,’ as Mal always said. Most clothes teetered on being too big for him, but still, Eames could get touchy at times about his large size.

He loved Eames’ size, loved how his suit jackets and button-downs stretched over his chest and back and the curve of his biceps. And his hands… those hands were enough to have Arthur consider taking up a religion. There had to be a divine something in the universe that he could thank for creating those hands. He dared not to reflect on Eames' other positive attributes. The ache in his lower back and hips was testament enough of that.

Arthur sighed contently, peering out at the view from the windows. He couldn’t put into words how happy he felt, it was too unfamiliar. Eames made him feel…sexy, wanted, when all he’d ever felt about himself was not so generous. It was like Eames brought out of him something delicate and guarded it protectively. Arthur had never blushed and smiled so much in his life, had never made another person go nuts the way Eames did, certainly never wanted to impress someone else like he did with Eames.

This thing between them was totally new. It made Arthur nervous. Eames could be so cruel sometimes, unrelenting when they worked jobs together. It was easier when he could tease Eames back, but even then the man always saw right through his act. Now what was he supposed to do? The man knew where his birthmark was, knew what to touch or say to make his knees weak. There was no way he was ever going to win in an argument with that man ever again.

And they would still have to work together, which was a problem. Arthur was just too hung up on the man, and had been for an uncomfortably long time. If Eames picked on him on more time, he would probably die if he didn’t get himself under control soon. But he didn’t really want to.

He blushed again when he found Eames in the kitchen wearing nothing but a white apron as he hummed and flipped pancakes.

Eames glanced over his shoulder, “Afternoon, darling. These should be ready in a sec. I’m attempting to put blueberries in this last batch so bear with me.”

“Need some help,” he asked distracted. He hadn’t really noticed before how wonderful Eames looked from behind. He also hadn’t realized how severely Eames’ back must have been on fire with all the angry scratches covering it. To be fair, Eames did fuck him hard to the point of almost breaking the bed and then they moved to the floor, rather than have Eames slow down or soften his thrusts.

“Nonsense, you get comfortable and I’ll bring these over.”

His ass was wonderful as well, Arthur mused. He had a brief thought, but guessed he would always be too shy and awkward to top Eames. Then again, Eames was an excellent teacher.

Eames turned with the plates of steaming pancakes, beaming. “Here we are. Grab a chair and dig in,” he offered, taking his own.

Arthur snapped out of his lust fog. “Oh, right. I should probably put on more clothes first.”

“Why? You see what I’m wearing, don’t you,” his cheeky grin was back.

Arthur took a step back, willing Eames to understand without having to spell it out. “I’m just wearing this shirt.” 

“Which looks very nice on you, darling. What’s the problem?”

“I…I’m still…from earlier...” He was going to die from all the blood in his body rushing to his face. “I don’t want to get the chair… wet,” he mumbled. He was definitely dying.

“Oh.” Eames’ face lit up. “I see.”

Arthur swallowed. He recognized that tone by now.

“How about you sit in my lap instead then.” He pushed Arthur’s pancakes onto his own plate. “What do you say?”

What could Arthur say? The second he sat in Eames’ lap, the forger had his legs open and one thick finger ghosting just inside of his body, toying with the slickness and still humming cheerfully as if nothing was happening under the table.

He kissed Arthur’s shoulder. “There’s butter in the tray near the other plate. Could you spread some on mine? Can you reach the syrup as well?” His other hand went under the shirt and circled his nipple. “That’s a good pet. Thank you.”

Arthur brain shorted out when he eased in a second digit. The pancakes were swimming in syrup now.

“Perfect,” Eames breathed into his neck, petting his stomach. “Just the way I like it.” He freed his hand long enough to lick his fingers and take a forkful of food to Arthur's mouth before pushing three fingers back in deeper, fucking them torturously slow. “I don’t know about you, lover, but I think this is the best breakfast I’ve ever had,” he boasted cheerfully and kissed syrup from the side of Arthur’s mouth.

Eames was right. Arthur was definitely more of a wreck than his apartment. Arthur feared for a split second that he might not ever recover from this and what was more, he still wasn’t sure if he wanted to.

+

Arthur was great at many things. He was a great pointman, and would someday be the best. He was a great shot and could physically take down any size opponent with little effort. He was great at sneaking out of bed in the middle of the night to clean your entire flat, revealing a plethora of valuable items you never knew you had. He was great at cooking and massages. And when it came to sex he was a definite yes man.

Arthur was terrible at giving head. Eames came to terms with this soon enough after having teeth on his dick one too many times. To the point where it seemed less impossible for someone to actually be bad at sucking cock than it would ever be for Arthur to get better at not biting his dick off.

But that was nothing compared to the fact that Arthur was also terrible at saying no to Cobb.

Eames rolled over in bed on the fourth morning, feeling on top of the world, and was surprised that Arthur wasn’t bundled up in the sheets with him. It was still early, and he was sure that he’d fucked Arthur into a state of unconsciousness only a few hours ago.

By the time he noticed Arthur’s phone missing from the bedside table, it was too late. He bolted out of the room, not caring if he had clothes on or not. “Arthur,” his voice rose in warning as he stomped down the hall.

Arthur was looking sheepish again in the kitchen, phone in hand behind his back, but there was no use hiding.

“Arthur, sweetheart, no. You _didn’t_.”

“That was Mal. She just found out that she was pregnant.”

“Oh, that’s nice. That’s not the end of it, is it?”

“She was worried about me." He sighed. "I’ve never bailed on them before.”

“ _And_ …?”

“And…” Arthur’s eyes dropped to the floor. He looked like a child swimming in Eames’ t-shirt. “And she wanted to see me.”

“And you said yes. Which means that Dom is on his way as well.”

Arthur wanted to argue, but deflated as soon as his mouth opened. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Well that was a surprise. Eames blinked. He couldn’t even be angry anymore with Arthur looking so ashamed.

“I wouldn't have said yes if I knew. I figured that you liked Cobb,” he shrugged. “You always work with us.”

“Oh sure, I like him fine,” when he’s with Mal, Eames wanted to say. He liked working with the Cobb’s because he liked Mal and loved Arthur. Dom was decent enough when he wasn’t treating Arthur like his personal secretary, or a parrot. And he certainly hadn’t forgotten about the man's snide comment in Miami. “Guess we should venture out then, get you something presentable to wear.”

“We still have time,” Arthur piped up. “They won’t be here for another day. We can still do other stuff.”

Eames grinned, eyeing Arthur fondly. “Are we eager this morning, love?”

His head tilted to the side a little. “Well you said you were going to show me how to do that thing with the,” he mimicked a sixty-nine with his hands, “That thing. We could do it now, since we’re up.”

All this was said in a very professional voice that had Eames floored. He had, absolutely, created a monster.

+

Eames wasn’t the best forger for nothing. Cobb was fidgeting in his seat beside Arthur at the restaurant. He was calm, jovial even, while he and Mal talked about their wish to have a girl. But Eames could see it. Cobb was livid.

And Arthur’s spark was gone. Eames wasn’t there for Arthur and Cobb’s conversation outside and he was dying to know just what the extractor said to his Arthur to make him close in as if the past several days hadn’t happened.

Who did Cobb think he was? He wasn’t Arthur’s father, he couldn’t control whom Arthur chose to fuck and he certainly couldn’t be jealous. He had Mal. He always had Mal. What right did he have to try and ruin that kind of a relationship for Arthur?

He was telling the pointman details about an upcoming job and what he needed Arthur to research in the meantime, completely ignoring the fact that Arthur was taking a break and had already plans with Eames. It also didn’t slip past Eames that Cobb was planning to hire a different forger, as if he and Eames weren’t sitting at the same table.

Arthur said very little, nodding and taking notes on a scrap of paper like a good little robot, back in work mode.

Eames hated Dom Cobb. But if he killed the man where would that leave Mal?

There was an easier way to get back at him, however.

“So Mal, where do you and Dom plan of having the baby,” he asked, putting his arm behind Mal’s chair. Dom took notice though continued his tirade of instructions to Arthur.

“Oh I don’t know, it’s still very early. I suppose it depends on where we are at the time. If we’re in the states, then Los Angeles, but if not, I suspect Paris. I'm hoping for Paris more I think. That way we can be closer to my parents.”

“That’s right. Your father was one of the pioneers of dreamsharing. Brilliant man. Arthur told me all about him—in the short amount of time that we weren’t preoccupied with other things. I’ll admit, there hasn’t been much time for talking.” Cobb’s attention was squarely on Eames now.

Mal glowed with affection. “I remember those days. Young, fresh love is so…well, it’s indescribable. But I'll tell you that when it settles into a constant, slow burning fire, that, I think is heaven.” She glanced at Dom with more passion than Eames felt the man deserved. How could Dom be so hung up on Arthur with a woman like that at his side?

Arthur kept his face glued to his note taking, but Eames chuckled.

”At the rate we’re going, Arthur will have to consider getting on an oral contraceptive or else he and you will be picking out baby's clothes together.” Mal hit his arm playfully. Cobb’s jaw twitched. Eames held back his grin.

Arthur quickly changed the subject, “So, uh, Mal, will you still be able to use somnacin? Do you know if it’s safe?”

Mal's smile grew when she looked back at Arthur. “My father suggests I play it safe. It will be a shame to have to part with dreamsharing for so long, but I will still do as much as I can with you and Dom above ground.”

She and Arthur continued to talk casually about dreamsharing and new theories well into the evening.

Cobb glared at Eames over his food. Eames glared back.

An idea struck Eames when the plates were cleared from the table. “Mal, darling, this place has the most delicious desserts. Would you care to try anything? Cobb?”

Mal ordered ice cream to share with her husband, distracting him. Perfect.

“Arthur, mind if I steal you for a second? And yes, Dom, I promise to bring him back this time.” He politely rose to his feet and took Arthur’s arm.

“Eames?”

“Hush,” he kissed Arthur’s frown and close the bathroom door behind them. “I never understood why all men’s washrooms didn’t have doors on the stalls. Thank god this one does.” He had to drag Arthur into the last one. Just in time; two men walked in shortly after to the urinals.

Arthur sank his nails into the hand Eames put over his mouth, glaring petulantly. When the men left he stomp on Eames’ foot. He hissed, “Eames, what are we doing in here?”

“I couldn’t help it. You just look so miserable out there.”

“Of course I am. I don’t want to leave.”

“Then don’t. We can slip out the backdoor now, and you can explain to Mal in the morning. We can go anywhere in the world.”

“I can’t. Contrary to popular belief I _am_ replaceable. If I bail on Cobb twice, who knows what’ll happen, Eames.”

“What will happen is that Cobb will pout, he’ll stop taking your calls, and when Mal has the baby, he’ll get over it and ask you to be godfather, which you will say yes to, and everything will be fine.” He wanted to shake Arthur. He wasn’t getting through.

Arthur rubbed his eyes tiredly. He didn’t want to disappoint Eames _or_ Dom. Dom was like his brother, Dom _was_ his brother, and he and Mal had done too much for him. Behaving like this was unaccpetable. And Eames… Well…

“I have to go,” he said to his feet. “I can try to be back in a couple of weeks. I don’t know.”

Damn. “Okay. We could take a break, while you’re off with them… But Jesus, Arthur, haven’t we waited long enough?”

He was right. Being with Eames, being the light in his eyes, it was addictive. And surprisingly safe. He felt a little lost just thinking about Eames not being there when he woke up in the morning.

He knew that they couldn’t stay like this in Rio forever. In fact with Eames’ luck he might be running away with his tail between his legs in a week over gambling debts to a completely different continent. Arthur couldn’t work and chase him at the same time. “Maybe a break then.” He didn’t even realize before that they might actually be in some form of a relationship and already it felt like they were breaking up. It wasn’t what he wanted.

To Eames, it seemed like he did. “Fine," he huffed. "Well, this nice little tryst was fun. How many years until the next one?”

“Please don’t be sarcastic Eames. That’s not fair.”

It wasn’t, but Eames didn’t care right now. “I just hope Cobb is worth wasting all of your youth on. There will be other extractors, and you’re already well on your way. Soon people will be crawling all over each other just to hire you.” Which was true, but then again, Eames would be lying if he didn’t think that he himself was on a decline. If he wanted to be completely honest, the only time he ever behaved and did a worthwhile job was when he was with Arthur. Cobb had one thing over Eames’ head: his reputation.

And wouldn’t Arthur be a shitty pointman if he didn’t know about Eames’ reputation as well?

“Sorry,” the forger sighed. “I’m being selfish.”

Arthur took his hands. “I don’t want you to not be selfish.”

Eames snorted at his awkward phrasing. “Then what do we do, lover?” When the answer was a depressing shrug, he kissed Arthur again. He knew what he had to do. If he wanted to give Cobb a reason to shut his mouth and maybe trust him with Arthur, he had to clean himself up, prove himself—not to Cobb, but to Arthur and even Mal to some degree, so that Cobb had no choice but to stay out of his and Arthur's business.

Arthur kissed him again. “Eames?”

He knew what that meant. Arthur was going to be incredibly annoyed, but there would be no time or privacy for them at his home. Dom Cobb was an ass but he wasn’t dumb. Eames would bet money that he had Arthur’s suitcase already in the trunk of the rented car. If he let Arthur go right now, that was it, his lover would be on his way back to Los Angeles within the hour.

“Eames, not here. I swear to god, no,” the pointman hissed, trying his hardest not to touch anything in the stall, but it was difficult with Eames boxing him in. It would be hot, in a dream perhaps, but in the real world, even in the richest establishments, Arthur knew there was no such thing as a clean bathroom.

Try as he may, he couldn’t fight. The forger knew where his birthmark was, after all. Arthur would be ashamed if it didn’t feel so good to fall apart so quickly in Eames’ hands.

The door to the washroom opened. Arthur clamped both his hands over his mouth but Eames continued to unbutton the lower half of his shirt, delving underneath to pet Arthur’s waist. The man washed his hands and left. Eames unbuttoned his and Arthur’s pants at once.

Arthur took Eames’ cock in hand, squeezing up a bead of precum. He still had no idea how something so big could fit inside him without him dying in the process. He wanted to drop to his knees and take it in his mouth, but Eames wouldn’t allow him to do such things anymore. He had no idea why; what man didn’t want a blowjob?

“See,” Eames teased, his fingers wrapping around the leaner man’ underwear and tearing them apart and out of Arthur’s pants. “This is where not-too-proper-clothing comes in handy. You’ll hardly miss those, I promise.”

“Eames,” Arthur moaned behind his hand, trying to keep quiet lest someone else walk into the bathroom.

Eames’ luck was generally shit but when it came to Arthur, he was the luckiest man alive to have found someone who wanted all of him, all the time, the way Arthur did. He hadn't noticed it, Arthur's little kink, right away but after that fourth morning it was obvious. That a clean freak like Arthur would resist showering after sex just to keep Eames’ release inside of him for a few more hours, it drove Eames wild.

His whispered words tickled over Arthur’s ear and the back of his neck. “I honestly think I’ve developed a new kink or fetish or something. Fingerfucking you at mealtime is just pleasantly unavoidable now. And you just make the loveliest sounds when I do this. Go on, pet. There’s no one in here but us. Sing for me like you did this morning, let me know what feels best.” He curled his fingers just so. Arthur screamed behind his hand. With his other, he grabbed Eames’ cock, rubbing its glistening head on his ass.

“Do you want it, pet?” At his quick nod, Eames chuckled. “I should make note to keep more lube on hand when I’m with you. We always end up like this.” In response, Arthur spread his ass and pushed back against him. “Not that you’re complaining, I see.”

Arthur hissed when Eames pushed in, the friction almost too much, but his body took him in gradually, possessed by Eames’s hands around his waist, the way he enveloped Arthur and groaned into his hair. Arthur clamped his mouth tighter when Eames pressed his fingers hard against his perineum, making it impossible for his cock to miss that spot inside. Eames was going to make sitting on that long flight back to LA unbearable, but Arthur kept meeting his hips as best he could. He moaned into his hand as he came, splattering the wall and floor.

Eames wasn’t too far behind. He pulled out slowly, quelling his need to push back in. Arthur was dripping now; a state that never failed to get Eames and Arthur hot all over again, but there was no time.

They tidied up quickly but didn’t leave the stall. Eames kissed Arthur's face with abandoned, committing the feel of his dimpled smile and soft lips to memory. He was going to have to make one hell of a projection to keep him company while Arthur was gone.

“Arthur," he hummed, "My lovely Arthur—” A toilet flushed two stalls down.

Arthur crumbled into a mortified heap in Eames’ arms.

The forger chuckled warmly, petting Arthur’s back. “A very cruel and sadistic part of me hopes that was Cobb.”

“I hate you Eames. Always remember that,” Arthur mumbled, groaning with shame into Eames’ stubble.

“That’s not nice, darling,” he cooed, half a mind to actually kidnap Arthur and take him someplace where even the pointman couldn’t decipher the address to Cobb. “Speaking of which, what happened when you talked to him to earlier?”

Arthur stepped back with a sigh. “He chewed me out and told me I was slipping, since I basically ruined the extraction in Miami and never showed up for the job in Helsinki."—Eames cringed as Arthur spoke. He wasn't at fault for either of those times, but he blamed himself anyways and Cobb seemed to only encourage that guilt—"Then he said you were a bad influence. And that there's a good chance that I’m only another conquest to you, which…” Arthur shrugged, looking at Eames with careful, hopeful eyes. “The bad influence part, I’m not really worried about, but…I’m very much hoping he’s wrong about that last part. But if he’s not then…then that’s…yeah, that’s not okay. I’ll kill you if that’s what this is.” He was dead serious.

Eames smile lit up his face. He eased Arthur back into his arms. “Well, then I suppose I shall live to see another day and possibly get to grow old, if the job doesn’t catch up with me first.”

Arthur nodded, taking it all in. His smile blossumed just as bright as the forger. “Good. I can work with that.”

++++

**Author's Note:**

> For questions, inspiration tags, and more for this fic and others, visit grizzly-bear-bane.tumblr.com


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